Page 63 of Bound By Darkness

It had been torture leaving this morning.

Fin refused to wake up, meaningIhad to shake him awake because Ivan refused to touch him, and because of it, told me I couldn’t ride with him for the remainder of the trip.

Which is where I sat now—in front of Ivan on Onyx.

“Nothing,” I muttered after a long period of silence.

Fin chuckled. “Nothing intriguing in that head of yours?”

“I have priorities,” I articulated as I willed the blood beneath my skin to cool. “And men aren’t one of them.”

“Food, pleasure, and books.Priorities,” he mimicked, his lips quirking to the side. “Real priorities.” Jerking his head to Ivan, he asked, “What of a jackass? What priorities swirl in that massive head of yours?”

“Laias.”

Fin huffed. “You’re no fun.”

“Fun is a distraction we can’t afford right now.”

“There’s no battle raging now. Tell me, what happened to the boy I knew who frolicked among the daisies and weeds? Who plucked various ones, bringing them underneath the overhanging branches of oak to draw their shapes and differences?” he drawled. “Now thatused to be fun.”

Ivan glared daggers at Fin. “I found better priorities. Realistic priorities.”

“You used to draw?” The question escaped my lips far too quickly to be anything but casual.

Ivan shot Fin a glare sour enough to curdle milk as he cleared his throat, his voice smooth as honey. “Yes.”

“What did you draw?”

He stayed quiet a moment before his chest rumbled, his voice deep. “Everything… but plants were my favorite.” The shift of his weight tugged at the leather saddle. “Plants have unique lines of symmetry that collide to form intricate shapes.”

“Good at it, too,” Fin added. “He had this huge catalog of every plant you could imagine. He even used to draw them when he was supposed to be completing his studies with?—”

“It’s in the past,” he replied roughly. “There’s no use dwelling on it.”

Fin coughed, breaking the stagnant atmosphere between us. “Well, that’s depressing.” He jutted a thumb to his chest. “I guess I’m responsible for upholding the mood. Unless you want to help too, Thalia.”

I grimaced as my hand raised in submission. “I’m good. I have enough things going on, like playing piggyback between two Fae men.”

Fin chuckled. “I assumed you liked it. More to share.”

I threatened to barf as Ivan shifted, a sound escaping hislips. Was that laughter? He hadn’t laughed since leaving Gwen’s and I wanted to hear it again—the sound like deep wind chimes vibrating my skin.

Fin rummaged in his pack, a loud sigh escaping his lips.

“What?” I asked, my eyes roaming over to him.

“I don’t have any money for the tax.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll cover it,” Ivan added.

“Glad at least one of us is wealthy.” Fin grinned, but Ivan remained silent.

“Tax?” The word was unfamiliar to me. There had been no… taxes before I entered the prison. “You have to pay to be let in?”

“For Laias to offer refuge, anyone who comes to their gate has to pay a tax, a payment to be let in. This payment is sent every full moon to Armas… to King Hywell,” Fin spat. “It’s how His Majesty keeps himself surrounded in pleasure. Money from the backs of his citizens who want nothing to do with him.”

“Nothing to do with him?” I asked.

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